The Doctor's Nurse
by Passive Pegasus
Summary: An old enemy is breaking through the barriers of a pesky prison. An old POW has escaped from her prison and is searching for an even older friend. The Doctor must make a desperate, even careless choice—or face dire consequences. And across the universe, something is humming a familiar tune.
1. Prologue

The dawn shimmered the day I died.

It was nothing compared to the spectacular sunrises I was used to, but it was better than nothing. Back home, the sky sung a sorrowful song, and the mountains danced in the wake of the stars. My people saluted the morning with effortless joy.

Many years had passed since then—far too many to count. I could scarcely remember those days. But how I wished I could.

Long ago, I had been a soldier, ranking high among my kind. We were all valiant and noble, brave and strong. We thought ourselves invincible. But we were wrong.

I'd been captured. My death had been certain. Only, it came much later than I expected—a few hundred years later.

I escaped—not unscathed, but alive. That was more than I could say for many of my comrades.

Everything had changed, I soon discovered. I was lost among the stars, alone and weak. There was but one option for me.

So I fled to the only planet I was sure to find help: Earth.

My days on Earth were many, but I made good use of them. I was wasting away as it was; fiddling about would do no one any good.

By my calculations, I had but two years to complete my task. I had to gather materials. I had to stop an invasion. I had to save the world.

I had to find the loneliest man in the universe.

I had to find the Doctor.


	2. Chapter One

The year was 2019. The humans in this city were in a dither, smiling and laughing, drinking and dancing. There are a few minutes left. To me, their behavior was odd. How could they be so casual, so calm? Their demise could be imminent.

Human nature was peculiar. But I had no right to judge.

I was the outcast. I was the one who didn't belong. I was the tourist. And I was the loner.

Reaching for the stars, a pillar of light rose, mighty and proud. It was nothing compared to the towers I could still remember, but it was something. Atop it was a glittering ball of white light, perched on a lean spindle. Lurching a bit, it began its descent.

The countdown had begun.

Upon my arrival to this "City of Dreams," I'd noticed something amiss about the beloved ball of lights and mirrors. It started as a hunch, of course, but after a few questions with the locals and a sizable stack of faded blueprints, I figured out why it didn't sit right with me: it was alien. The crystals that coated the outer layer of the ball glowed, not from the lights within but with something more.

Though I tried, I couldn't get close enough to determine the location of origin. I would have to wait, I eventually decided. It was a good thing my kind was patient.

Or perhaps that was just me.

Now that the humans were distracted, I wove my way through them, being careful to avoid their flailing limbs and doing my best not to injure anyone. For the most part, I was successful, although I could have done without the sharp jab to the ribs by a woman in a dress that mimicked the luminous ball in outrageousness.

A shadowed alley provided a perfect rest stop, so leaning against one of the grime-coated brick walls, I retrieved two items from my waistcoat pocket: a pocket watch—a perfectly normal, human-made pocket watch with a few slight modifications from otherworldly technology—and my in-progress sonic device. At the moment, it appeared to be nothing more than an average ballpoint pen, and without two crucial pieces, it was.

Although it didn't write very well. Rather unfortunate. I needed to look into that as soon as I was finished in New York.

The ball dropped. Celebration ensued.

It was now or never.

Inching along the sides of the surrounding buildings, I kept a close eye on the massive throng of people who filled the area. Very few noticed my presence, and most who did didn't bat an eyelash. But there was one man—a ripe gent in the throes of adulthood—who stared and followed my path with his stare.

I tried to ignore him. There were always some who were able to recognize oddity. Rarely did they bother interfering. Most assumed it wasn't worth their time.

It was better that way.

I stood at the entrance to the Walgreens at the base of the tower. Inside, a few sleepy patrons milled about. Instead of going in, I continued past the shoddy store and turned at the next set of doors. Within them were layers of floors with a hollow center.

I needed to reach the roof, and fast.

But someone grabbed my arm.

Without a moment of hesitation, I spun, seizing my adversary's hand and twisting. He let go, but I didn't. Wide and green like the lush Chimeria, his eyes locked on mine.

It was the man who'd stared.

I hated when humans meddled.

"It's really not polite to touch people you don't know," I said, dropping my hold. "Honestly, there are much better greetings to implement; I suggest looking into them."

With a stiff nod and a brief salute—which I later scolded myself for—I went on my way.

"Wait." There was a muted sensation in his voice, something like fear or curiosity—perhaps both—that regrettably coaxed me into obeying. "Who are you?"

Shooting him a look out of the corner of my eye, I smiled. "You really don't want to ask that."

He wasn't giving up. "What are you doing here?"

"You're just rude all over, aren't you?"

"You're not normal."

I lifted an eyebrow. "And you're quite the charmer."

With a shake of his head, he looked away. "Sorry. I just.. There's..."

"Yeah, I know," I interrupted. "Look, I don't have the time to chat. I'm in the middle of something. And you're getting on my nerves."

He held up a hand, limply. "Listen, I can help you."

Scoffing, I grinned. "I doubt that."

"You want to get to the roof."

My grin melted. "And how might you know that?"

His smile grew wry. "You don't want to ask that."

He was clever. I hated clever. "Fair enough. How can you help me, then, George?"

"My name's Jeremy."

I pursed my lips. "Nah, you look more like a George to me." Pet names were considerably more fun than the ones given at birth**—**or creation, or hatching, or however one was made. Besides, I thought they would make us closer. And if he was to follow me, I knew he'd have to get comfortable, and fast.

For a moment he appeared as if he would contradict me. Then he blinked and shook his head. "Whatever. Look, I work part time as a janitor here." From his pocket, he drew a plastic card. "This is how we were to access to the maintenance staircase on the top floor; it's the only way to the roof."

"You're a janitor."

"A janitor who just saved your ass," he affirmed.

I furrowed my brows as I scrutinized him. "Who _are_ you? And why are you helping me?"

"You remind me of someone I met a long time ago," he answered hesitantly. "He saved my family from... from a strange creature."

A pang arose in my chest, and I couldn't help but grasp his shoulders. "And his name. What was he called?"

He looked at the ground for a few seconds, pondering this. "We called him... 'The Doctor.'"

Laughter bubbled up from my throat, and I could feel my smile splitting my face. "Fantastic." Clapping him once on the back, I urged the man forward. "Right then. Lead the way, George."

"Jeremey," he said breathlessly.

"We need to get to the roof as soon as possible."

"I'm regretting my decision to help you," he muttered.

"If you die, you can regret this all you'd like, but if not, you'd better thank your god you met me tonight," I replied, a hint of cynicism dancing across my words. "Because if this doesn't work, I can guarantee you one thing: in five months, this planet will die. How's that sound for a future, George?"

He said nothing. I hadn't expected him to. Humans were so predictable.

But I was glad I met this one.


	3. Chapter Two

Most of the stores were nearly empty or already closed as we walked past. George—or whatever he called himself—avoided making eye contact as much as possible. I couldn't figure him out. Why had he followed me in the first place? Curiosity never led this far, not in my experience. Curiosity was dangerous. If only mankind could learn.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked before I realized my mouth had opened. "Truly, I mean. You'll gain nothing from this. I'm not... I'm not the Doctor."

Maintaining the same pace—a comfortably fast stride—he stuffed his hands within the confines of his jacket pockets. "You have the attitude as him."

"How so?"

"You're confident. But not arrogant. Or maybe you are. I can't tell." He sighed dejectedly. "I don't know. You're different. Like you don't belong here."

I pursed my lips. "My, you know how to give a compliment. I'm sorry I asked."

George in the lead, we continued up the building, and though he slowed once or twice, he quickly recovered. He was a trooper, as humans said.

Most other humans passed us by, heading for the exit as they prepared to return home. In a way, I could almost sense George's longing to follow them, yet he stayed with me. For the first time, I began to realize that not all humans were the same; not all of them followed the popular practice, not all the time.

"Why are you wearing kneepads?" he asked suddenly, spinning around for a few moments to point. I was caught off guard; no one had previously noticed them.

I shrugged. "I'd prefer my knees to be whole and healthy, thank you."

A few more minutes of silence passed. I fiddled with my in-progress pen. The Doctor would know what to say, what to do, how to act. I wasn't like him. If I were, my mission would be considerably easier. But I came short of his reputation by light years.

"I'm an empath," George murmured.

I paused mid-step. "Pardon?"

"Back on the street, I could feel how anxious and determined you were. Anxious yet fearless. That was how the Doctor was when I met him. That's why I had to follow you," he explained in a way that was almost sheepish.

I had no response other than something incredibly brilliant: "Oh."

Why I couldn't match the Doctor in wit escaped me.

Finally George stopped and withdrew the plastic card from his trousers. "This is the maintenance staircase. The roof is just through here."

The way he spoke in a stiff tone summoned fear to my heart. "You're coming, too, aren't you? I may need a spotter." I tried as hard as I may to hide the fear from my voice. He'd thought I was fearless, and I preferred to keep it that way.

He hesitated. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Don't be too long. I know from experience that the Doctor can get people in serious trouble."

Though that didn't sound like the Doctor I knew, I didn't question it. "Don't worry. I have a reputation of being too dull for danger."

At that, George swiped the card, eliciting a short, shrill beep and a flash of green. Using his shoulder for additional might, he shoved the door open. Inky blackness awaited us until he flicked the nearest switch. In the darkness's place came a flickering light from a dust-covered lamp.

"Right this way," he offered, gesturing broadly with an open hand as if indicating some scene of obtuse grandeur. It was odd, and I didn't find any humor in it. I hoped that hadn't been his intention.

Regardless, I advanced, taking the steps slowly as I took in the cracked cement and swarms of cobwebs. It appeared as if it hadn't been touched in decades.

"This isn't used much, is it?"

"Not usually. Though there were folks up here tonight."

I wrinkled my nose. "Odd, seeing as they've made no impressions in the dirt and no other indication of their presence." He didn't reply.

The stairs were longer and shorter than most, but the staircase itself wasn't long. Before I knew it, we'd reached another door. George took the incentive and turned the knob. The door groaned as it slid across the ground, but it opened easy enough.

Fresh air greeted us, and my first destination became the edge of the roof.

On the street twenty-five stories below, celebration ensued, but the people's attention had diverged from the luminous ball and instead to some teenage human who was bouncing about a stage and crooning an awful melody. George whistled once, peering out over the edge.

"Steep drop," he commented.

"Just a little."

He turned to me. "Why did you need to get up here anyway?"

Briefly ignoring him, I stepped around him until I stood beside the pole upon which the ball was mounted. I pointed to the sphere, located about ten feet above where I stood. "Does that look human?"

"It looks like glass."

Sighing, I dropped my hand. "No, I mean does it look like human technology?"

Furrowing his brow, George gaped at me as if I'd lost it. "Why wouldn't it?"

A realization dawned on me. "He never told you what he was."

"What who was?"

"The Doctor, George. The Doctor," I barked, closing my eyes to allow myself time to calm my voice. There was no need to be rude.

George appeared puzzled. "I'm sorry?"

"That's why you don't understand, why you didn't question following me!" I rambled, turning away from him and running a hand through my hair. "How old were you when you met the Doctor?"

"Thirteen."

"Of course," I breathed. "Teenagers are the worst."

"Pardon?"

With a scoff and a wave of my hand, I dismissed the conversation. "We don't have time for this. Hold my coat." I hurriedly slipped off my gray jacket and tossed it to George. The elbow-length sleeves of my blazer weren't the best defense against the chill at this altitude, but I didn't care. "Now if I slip—"

"What?"

"—I'm going to need you to do your best to catch me. Or at least catch my pocket watch," I finished, tugging the device from my pants pocket. Locking eyes with him, I shook it at him. "This is far more important than you can imagine."

"It's a_ pocket watc_h," he said with a hint of disbelief.

"That's what it wants you to think. Stay away from the edge, and please, for the love of the Doctor," I groaned, "don't do anything stupid."

"Says the woman about to scale the spire."

Once more, I ignored him and instead began my ascent. The metal was cold and slippery, but the occasional spots where various rods overlapped others provided some hand and footholds.

I could see my breath before me as it caressed the shining surface. By the time I was within a few feet of the ball, I was shivering—and that was saying something. Cold rarely affected me. But then again, it'd been a long, long time since I'd been exposed to the elements like this.

I pulled myself so I was close enough to grab the ball, and by doing so, I immersed myself in a spherical vacuum. All oxygen had vanished. Someone didn't want anyone to get close to this thing, but why?

I didn't have time to wonder. I needed to work fast.

For leverage, I hooked my left hand under a cluster of the semi-transparent panels that covered the ball. Wrapping my legs as tightly as I could around the spire, I drew my pocket watch again with a shaking hand.

Growing lightheaded, I pressed the button on the top of the watch, and immediately it opened. When I spun the hour hand to the 12, a soft grinding sound emitted, and from the face rose a thin, spindly shaft. On one side resided a small red button.

Lungs beginning to ache, I aimed the laser at one of the individual panels and pressed the button. Though only a few millimeters in breadth, the laser was potent, and in a matter of seconds the panel dropped from its place. I quickly took the chain of my pocket watch into my mouth and caught the slim material with my now-free palm.

I let go.

After a single second, the small crystal panel lit up from within, as if it had its own energy source or was, dare I say it, alive. I couldn't mask my shock, but honestly, I had to focus more on my landing than on this obviously-alien technology in my hand.

George released a startled yelp, but it wasn't necessary. I'd fallen from higher. Bending my knees, I managed to absorb the impact, stumbling only a step or two from where my feet connected before resuming a standing position.

I held out my prize. "Tell me, George, do normal crystals produce their own light?"

"I'm not a geologist, but I'd like to think not," came his witty answer.

"Good boy, George." Bringing the crystal closer to my eyes, I squinted. "This is a brilliant find, really. Rare enough is Vionesium but in crystal form?" I exhaled sharply. "Could only be mined from Mogar and shipped directly here. But how did humans get their hands on some of this? They aren't a part of the trade—at least, not to my knowledge. That's what doesn't make—"

From somewhere behind me, there came a sudden gust of wind that sent me forward. I spun mid-step to meet the cold, lifeless eyes of a statue. It was beautiful in a generic way, and its wings were folded gracefully behind its back. One hand delicately sat beneath its chin, and the other was held half behind it, as if it were timid.

As I admired it, George was sputtering like a loon.

"That wasn't here before, was it? I mean, I'd have noticed. I'd have noticed, right? Who put a damn angel statue up here? Is this a prank?"

"Don't blink, George," I warned, giving him a sharp nudge to the shoulder.

"_What_?"

"Just keep looking at it. Hold on," I ordered, nodding to him as I turned away. This crystal was the final piece to my device. Sure, I'd endangered the life of a human for a selfish gain, but if I were to find the man I was looking for, I needed to have a working sonic pen.

While I worked, George, as it'd become part of his character, began to babble.

"This thing is really starting to creep me out," he admitted.

Using my pocket watch, I carved a small, perfect diamond—the shape, not the mineral—out of the panel.

"It's eyes, I mean. Have you seen its eyes?"

"If you stare into them, it's going to kill you. Stare at it, not into its eyes. It's not that hard, George." I withdrew my pen, unscrewing the thick-plated glass cap. The next part was the trickiest.

Though he was a few feet behind me, I could sense his fear growing. "What happens if I blink?"

"Oh, George," I said with a sigh as I placed the crystal in its proper place, "you should know by now that some questions are better left unanswered."

"Just tell me," he barked, voice shaking. There was a primeval desperation shaddowed in his voice that urged me to be honest. After a few moments of hesitation as I completed my work, I obliged.

"You die," I said, spinning around to meet a flurry of air.

I could almost hear the angel laughing.

George—Jeremey—was gone. And I hadn't even bothered to get his full name.

The angel's arm was still outstretched, its mouth twisted into a grin. I marched up to it, at the perfect height to stare straight into its eyes.

"You didn't have to target him," I growled. "He didn't pose a threat. He was innocent and dumb like the rest of them. You had no right."

I ran a hand through my hair again, wiping my fingers under my eyes as I turned away. They were barely damp. There was a slight movement behind me, but no fear invaded me. The angel wouldn't do anything to harm me; I knew that.

Its stone finger prodded my shoulder, and I spun around, pen at the ready. The crystal—its finishing touch—glowed in a shade of purest silver, illuminating the sharp teeth bared in its smile. Behind it, its wings were now spread, their span seeming far too large to be possible. But my eyes were drawn to its hand.

Between its index finger and thumb was a single piece of crisp paper, folded neatly.

I took it. "Even for your kind, this is sick and childish. I expect more." There was only one fold, so it took no time at all to unfold it and read the four lines of text aloud.

"The stars have shifted.

The Doctor is lost.

Deliver the message

No matter the cost.

"I'm really not a fan of poetry. You should know that," I said, still staring at the paper.

By the time I looked up, the angel had vanished. Bitter and cold, I shoved the note into my pocket and retrieved my fallen coat from the roof.

Flicking on my pen, I began a scan for leaking time energy in order to locate the Doctor—the stars only knew how much his TARDIS could blow a gasket or other nonsense.

"I'm sorry, Jeremey," I whispered as a final goodbye. "But I did warn you, even if it was a bit late."

And with that, I set off on my quest with no time to waste.

I needed the Doctor. And I needed him now.


	4. Chapter Three

_Long ago_

There were no clouds in the gleaming orange sky. Though the air was drier than usual, we didn't complain. We were used to it. And we couldn't change it.

We were running. It was the carefree gallop of children. We smiled and laughed, danced in the plains of red. We had no worries. It wouldn't last for long, this period of immaturity and no responsibilities, so naturally we made the most of it.

Though we were young—especially for our people—at just fourteen years old, we thought ourselves far wiser than the rest. We were naive. It came with our kind. Our corruption came not long after.

We were Time Lords—or in my case, a Time Lady—and our futures were both brilliant and dark. There were the future of the universe, and the past. There were everything and nothing.

Our pace was kept in stride, both of us taking the same steps. As our bare feet pounded the rusty soil, laughter bubbled from our throats. Fun. There was nothing to it.

He covered my eyes from behind. "Don't peek. I want you to savor the surprise."

"You're crazy," I said, still laughing. "I hate surprises."

"You'll like this one. I promise."

We didn't use our names. They were... personal. Only the leaders made their names public. We never questioned it. If we needed to address one another, we did so with simple words in our language that translated to "friend" or "peer." We were simple and prided ourselves for it.

The air grew denser. "Where are we?"

"Someplace special."

"Is it forbidden? We can't get caught. Not again." He was an adventurous one, but he had a soft side. If I played with it, I could make him feel immensely guilty for something that wasn't remotely his fault.

Not that I would.

"It's just special to me. We're almost there," he said, urging me to go faster. "It's almost night. We have to get home before then."

"Alright, alright. So long as it doesn't belong to any other Gallifreyans. We're not to cross into their territory, remember?"

He sighed, fingers slipping ever so slightly. A slender ray of golden light slipped between them. "I know. It isn't. Stop talking. Lighten up. Relax."

"Stop trying to give me a pep talk," I said with a pout. He only laughed, and I mimicked him.

Time passed. It was a short period. He stopped. Slowly he removed his fingers, and I was, for a few moments, blinded by the dying beams. When my vision cleared, my breath was stripped away.

I'd never seen such a lovely mountainscape, nor had I ever seen such a calm lake with as milky brown a surface as this. "Where are we?"

"Lake Parthenon. It's on the edge of our land. No one comes here anymore," he sighed. "But that makes it all the more my own."

"When do you come here?"

"Almost every day."

"So this is where you disappear to." He nodded, beaming.

Taking my hand, he tugged me toward the nearest rock face. "Well, come on then. Let's have an adventure."

Together, we began to scale the sheer mountain. After a few minutes, it dawned on me just how high the rock went. "Have you ever climbed this before?"

"No, this is my first time."

"Brilliant."

The air grew less dense as we neared the peak. Instead of climbing to the top, we instead perched upon a cliff which overlooked the lake. It was at least a two-hundred-foot drop.

As I began to sit, I turned to my friend. "What are we doing up here?"

He remained standing, grinning that infamous mischievous grin of his. "We're not here to relax. We're going to have an adventure."

"You don't mean..."

He dragged me to my feet in an instant. "You'll never know what it's like until you jump."

"You're _crazy_," I breathed.

Squeezing my hand, he nodded. "So let's be crazy together."

It was too tempting to refuse.

I pushed past him, ignoring his warnings, and stood at the edge of the cliff, peering down at the placid surface. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"Am I ever sure of anything?"

"You aren't helping your case."

I didn't await a response. There was a surge of something in my veins, so I used it to my advantage. Bending my knees, I tossed a grin back at my friend. "Bye."

Then I was flying.

Free.

Peaceful in the air with a fluttery feeling in my stomach.

Until my leg smashed into the rock that jutted out of the water, that is.

There was a burning sensation that stayed with me as I plunged into the depths. I tried to swim but found it too painful to kick. Desperate for air, I attacked the water with only my arms, barely managing to breach the surface in time to gulp in air.

My friend landed in the water some twenty feet away, unharmed. When he surfaced, he quickly paddled over to me, using his strength to bring us both to shore.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, trying to mop up the blood that had accumulated. I gritted my teeth. "I didn't see the rock. I didn't think."

"It's... alright. I'm fine." Speaking was difficult.

"I'll be right back. _Don't mov_e," he ordered, rising from his kneeling position.

"Wasn't planning on it."

I didn't know how long it had been since he left, but he returned with a handmade medical pack. Inside were bandages, medicine packets, and other supplies. "Where'd you get that?"

"I stored it a few weeks ago in the tree nearest the lake. I figured it was better safe than sorry."

"You were right." He smiled briefly before wrapping the bandage around my knee.

Once it was secured, he helped me to my feet, wrapping my arm around his shoulder and his around my waist. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. It's just a little cut."

"Little is relative." Laughing hollowly, he shook his head. "Thank you"

"It was my fault, and I couldn't just leave you to bleed out, now could I?"

"You're like a doctor," I joked. "You just can't let things happen. You have to fix them."

"'Doctor,' eh? I like the sound of that."

I sighed. "Of course you do."


End file.
